Sanctuary
by Filthy Warumono
Summary: Nightcrawler. A character of mystery, yet none have bothered to ask. What exactly happened before the attempted assassination at the White house? NOTE: Takes place right before X2
1. Prolouge

"Get out, Ich bin ein bote des teufels! Ich bin die ausgebert des bosen! Ich bin ein daemon!"  
  
The deep voice slurred with a heavy german accent boomed throughout the cooridoors of the abandoned church, echoing off the tall walls, spooking all those who entered into thinking the place was haunted - by a dark demon. With puffs of sulfer-smelling blue smoke appearing here and there, the voice bouncing from floor to ceiling, it was easy to assume why. If one was lucky enough to catch a glance at the dissapearing creature, one would describe it as this: An indigo-blue monster with tall, pointed ears, piercing golden-yellow eyes, three deadly claws on each hand and foot, sharp fangs, and a long winding tail.  
  
"Get out, Ich bi ein bote des teufels! Ich bin die ausgebert des bosen! Ich bin ein daemon!"  
  
Fortunetly, the descriptions weren't exactly true. The creature was not a monster , but a mutant. His curse that he had been born with had forced him to hide in the shadows for most of his life, after being abandoned at birth, left by the gypsies, and abused by captives bent on using him for their sick ideas of mutant slaughter. His eyes were indeed golden-yellow, his ears pointed, tail and skin that deep blue color, but he had fingers and not claws - though it was only three on each hand. His teeth were not horrible fangs, but were indeed rather sharp.  
  
"Ich bin ein daemon!"  
  
Making a living from being secluded, the mutant known as Nightcrawler spent most of his time inside the old and forgotten chruch, praying. He knew that no matter what he was, how he looked, he was put onto the earth for a reason. Maybe someday he'd find out why.  
  
SANCTUARY  
  
"You are here, alone again, in your sveet insanity, all too calm, you hide yourself from reality. Do you call it solitude? Do you call it liberty? Vhen all zhe vorld turns avay to leave you lonely." Kurt Wagner was, indeed, singing lightly to himself. His voice was quiet, the strong accent of his German heritage flowing along smoothly, making every word from those blue lips seem melodious to any ear willing to listen.  
  
"Zhe fields are filled mit desires, all voices crying for freedom. But all in vain zhey vill fade avay, zhere's only you to answer you, forever." The church walls gave the song an eerie echo, but somehow it floated along, adding to the beautiul sound.  
  
"In blinded mind you are singing, a glorious hallelujah. Zhe distant flutter of angels, zhey're all too far, too far to reach for you." His mishapen hands were clutching to a silver cross tied around his neck, his long tail wrapped about one of the many rafters, keeping him still as he hung upside down. His coat had fallen up above his shoulders, eyes closed, ears perked, listening to make sure that none was to enter.  
  
"I am here alone again, in mein sveet serenity, hoping you vill ever find me in any place. I vill call it solitude vhen all mein songs fade in vain, fly my voice, far avay to eternity."  
  
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It was just past 10 o'clock at night, and the city of Manhattan was calming down from the days activity. There were no people walking the slow streets, trees swaying back and forth in the slight breeze, the stars shining out from behind the dark velvet cape that now draped the sky. There were little cars driving past, all eager people ready for a good nights rest. In a remote section of the city shadows gloomily decorated the area, and what little street lamps were there happened to be barely working. At the end of the road was the abandoned church, now grown over with weeds, the paint chipping. From the outside it looked as though a section of a wall had collasped.  
  
Behind the doors, however, it was different.  
  
Headlights flooded over the front as a navy blue car pulled up to the side, two men climbing out of the doors. They slammed them shut, a low thud in the night. Turning towards each other, they nodded towards the doors. They were dressed in dark colors, the taller of the two holding what seemed to be a gun in his gloved hands.  
  
"Here's where they said the freak was. You go in and get him. I'll have the car ready." The shorter man seemed to be younger when comparing his voice to his male counterpart's.  
  
"I don't think so. We have to do this rationally. If there is a mutie in there, I'm sure he won't be willing to come along."  
  
"What the hell do you think the gun is for?"  
  
"Shut up." The older man glanced towards the church, cocking his pistol. "We'll both go in." His dark brown eyes scanned the area, making sure that there wasn't anybody around in case things got bad. "Rumors say there's a demon in there, but it has to just be the mutant. Which means he's gotta be good at spooking. Do not fall for anything." Grinning, the two pushed open the doors.  
  
Upon hearing the grunt of the wood, Nightcrawer immedietly released his necklace and dissapeared with his usual 'Bamf!', leaving behind the smoky blue substance. He reappeared high in the rafters, gazing down at the doorway with his golden hues. Locking upon the two, he narrowed his eyes. More people to cause mischief?  
  
"Hey! Why don't you come out, little mutie freak! We know you're here." Deep blue orbs glanced about as the young man called out, determined to find the creature before the other.  
  
"Get out, Ich bin ein bote des teufels!" His voice echoed, and he made the noise even more confusing as he teleported to a new location, continuing the chant from the other side of the church. "Ich bin die ausegebert des boren!" 'Bamf!' He now clinged to the ceiling, right above the doorway. "Ich bin ein daemon!"  
  
The older man shook his head, grinning. He raised the pistol above his head and fired it, creating an echo to match the chant as the bullet barely missed Kurt. The mutant cried out slightly and dissapeared, re- appearing far in the back of the building. "Did you hear that, Chris? I toldja he could be hurt. I think I got him."  
  
Christopher laughed, and cupped his gloved hands about his mouth. "Come on out! We wont hurt you if you do as we say. Otherwise, we may have to kill you." Looking over towards his partner, he grinned. "We just want to make you an offer, to help you with your problem."  
  
Kurt shook his head, perched comfortably on his toes in the rafters. He wasn't stupid. He watched them from the short distance, debating. They obviously weren't afraid of the demon act. Now what?  
  
The older man, Jared, pulled out his cell phone and brought it to his ear. "He's a troublemaker. I'm sure if he really felt the need, he could get out of this building. I'm calling a few others to surround us." Chris smiled. "Yes, back up near the old church. Yeah, outside. Of course we've found him. Alright."  
  
Blinking his golden-colored hues in confusion, Kurt cocked his head. Now he wouldn't be able to teleport outside either.  
  
Chris had narrowed his eyes, searching about. Finally, he spotted the mutant. "Hey, Jared, I found him." Jared turned and spotted him as well, cocking his gun again and firing off a few shots near where Nightcrawler was perched. The blue teleporter ducked and jumped from the rafters landing with ease upon the floor, raising his hands to his head. "You give up?" Chris questioned, blue eyes stared the creature in front of them. He could understand why mutants were wanted dead now, after seeing this thing.  
  
Jared's deep voice broke the sudden silence. "Come here." He motioned for Nightcrawler to come closer, waving his gun rather than a friendly hand. The mutant didn't move though, only stood, watching them with his yellow eyes. "I said come here. You wouldn't want me to shoot again, would you?" No response. The man narrowed his eyes. "Damn freak." He shot, the bullent headed right for Nightcrawler's chest. Only... 'Bamf!'  
  
"The hell?" Chris blinked, looking at the smoke. Suddenly a tail wrapped about his neck, and a pair of strong hands to hold his own down. The tail was tightening around his throat, cutting off his air supply. Chris gagged, trying to make a sound. Unfortunetly he was very unsuccessful. He lashed about randomly, but none of his kicks hit. Jared turned, pointing his pistol. The blonde man's eyes widened and he shook his head quickly. If Jared fired, he would deffinetly be hit.  
  
"Move, Chris!" He tried to bring his aim around the man, but Kurt turned with it. Finally the older man shrugged. "You've been a good partner, Chris."  
  
He shot.  
  
Nightcrawler released the man in his grip, watching as he fell to the floor in a puddle of blood. He took a step backwards - he hadn't meant for the man to die. Returning his gaze to the one with the gun, he felt the peircing pain before he had heard the shattering sound. He brought his hands up to the newly inflicted wound and again teleported, appearing in the back of the church once more.  
  
When he did, the doors in the front nearly fell off their hinges when the other three men trampled in. The first thing they saw was their partner lying face first on the floor, pressumably dead. Right away they suspected that the mutant they were called to get was responsible for the damage, and immedietly thought of him as the enemy. Not like that changed much when they had already thought that he was evil, as most humans do to all mutants.  
  
He saw them running near, guns cocked and ready for fire. The words comming from their mouths were not good ones, and the looks on their faces matched. Kurt didn't bother running again, in doing so he would probably cause more blood loss. He fell to the floor in a crumpled heap, watching as they came up behind him and bound his hands together. His yellow eyes glared at Jared as he watched from a short distance, his lips curled into an evil grin. When he saw the butt of the gun come near, everything went black. 


	2. Chapter One

WOW! I got a bazillion reviews in one day, all of 'em good! ^__^ *Uber-happy* Well, I guess I'll keep writing it then! *Shine* Uhm, I have no idea what Kurt is saying in the second sentence. . . x.X It sounded cool. Lol uhh, yeah. YAY! Reviews! *Bounce bounce. . .* This takes place right before the attack on the White House, in case you haven't figured. . . So some details might be in the prequel comic x.x I do not own x-men! © XD! SPOILER ALERT!!  
  
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Chapter One  
  
The sharp stinging of pain. Opening those golden hues to the dim light in the room, Nightcrawler realized that he was lying on some sort of bed, though it could have fooled him. It felt like a large boulder rather than a soft mattress. His head was throbbing where the gun had made contact. He was on his back, staring up at the ceiling. Metal clamps bound his hands and feet, and a matching collar was around his neck. Obviously these people hadn't wanted him escaping anytime soon. He turned his head, trying to take in all his surroundings. It was a small room, and all of it was made out of the same cold cement. There were two beds and a toilet. Looked like a holding cell, Kurt thought to himself.  
  
Hearing the iron doors creak as they were opened, his yellow eyes shifted from the wall to the figure emerging from the shadows. "You see? There he is. Are you sure this whole idea of yours will work, William?"  
  
"Of course. I've done work on other mutants before, remember? Now, when mutant 243 is done, bring her here. She'll share a room with this . . . unusual creature." The other man nodded, taking a seat for now.  
  
William Stryker. The name alone wasn't very inviting, and his looks matched to boot. His brown hair was graying, slicked back away from his face. He had a slight beard growing, and his age shown out from behind those thick glasses he wore. Kurt noted that this mans eyes were different, one blue, one green. He was dressed casually, a ring of keys hanging from his belt, and he used those to unhook Nightcrawler from the bed. He moved to a seated position.  
  
"Well, my little monster. Why don't you and I sit down and have a long conversation." He moved to seat himself on the other, unoccupied mattress across the room. "Funny thing, you've already taken a seat. How kind." He wore a smug grin upon those lips, one that Kurt would have more than willingly knocked from his face, given the chance. "I won't even think about letting you go, unless you do what you're told." He tapped his foot.  
  
"So, I'd like to know more about you. The information we've gathered is a bit incomplete. We know you're highly agile. We know that you speak five languages, including Swedish, of all things. And we also know that you can move yourself through some kind of dimensional portal - some form of teleportation - and can cover large distances in the blink of an eye." He grinned, bringing a hand up to his chin, rubbing it. "What else do I need to know about you, Kurt?"  
  
Nightcrawler narrowed his golden eyes. He focused, preparing to just teleport and leave the area. He had his mind locked onto a location, but when a burning pain ripped through his brain, numbing all of his senses from head to toe, he cried out, bringing his hands up to his head. He fell to the floor, leaning against the wall, trembling from the pain.  
  
"Let me guess . . . you were trying to do that little teleportation trick I just mentioned. But we've considered that option, as well. "Stryker stepped forward, laughing slightly. He kneeled down next to Kurt, a pretend gaze of sympathy on his face. "I suppose something along the lines of 'to hell with this' went through your little monster mind." He smirked, those different colored hues watching. "Hurts, doesn't it?" He stood, resuming his post on the bed's edge. "Now . . . once again . . . what other interesting mutant talents do you possess?"  
  
Kurt watched the floor, thinking. There really wasn't much left to be told about him, the man had named off nearly everything. But, he could be a jerk about things. "Vell, if you rub my belly . . . my leg viggles uncontrollably."  
  
Stryker stared dumbfoundedly at the mutant before him, before getting up and turning out of the room. The other man followed not soon after.  
  
"Vhat? Are you leaving? Do you not vant to give it a try?" His bright hues watched as they left, the door beginning to shut behind them. "All right. Maybe later. I am here all veek. Vherever here is. . ."  
  
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Meanwhile, Stryker was getting very impatient. He was in a secluded, private room, locked down with tight security. He was talking with a few of his crew mates. "I want this model to be an improvement on the first. She has the ability to be just as deadly, so we must make her better. I expect a massive, killing mutant." He grinned.  
  
Jared shrugged. "What about the other guy? He doesn't have the same abilities. What are you going to do with him?"  
  
At that, William turned in his chair. "What am I going to do with him?" He laughed, rubbing the bottom of his scratchy chin. "We're going to use him to re-introduce the Mutant Registration Act, that's what." Jared shot him a confused look. "If one mutant does something horrible, people are naturally going to assume that all mutants are evil, right? Well, I'm going to arrange an attack. On the president."  
  
Another man cocked his head. "You're gunna kill the president?"  
  
Stryker laughed. "Perhaps."  
  
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"Dear Lord, hear my prayer. Please let all mein freunds be safe, all of zhem back in zhe munic circus. Amanda, Margali, Voodhead, Chester, all zhe ozhers." Kurt Wagner was on his knees, head bowed in prayer. His necklace that was tied around his waist was brought up in his hands, grasped together. He had no idea where he was, or what had happened to anyone else. All that he knew was that one minute he was in the old, abandoned church after an amazing performance, and then he was kidnapped and placed into this strange holding cell. And it wasn't a very nice one, to his standards.  
  
The performance was, indeed, great. He had altered the practiced lines a bit, deciding to do some ad-libbing at the last minute, but all of the other performers had just gone with it. And Amanda, she was wonderful. Margali was his gypsy 'mother'; she took him in as an infant. Amanda was her beautiful daughter, now in her late teens. Kurt himself was only in his early twenties. But rather than thinking of Amanda as a sister, he knew had feelings for her. She didn't care what he looked like; she saw the real character inside of him. He only felt truly happy when she was, and if she was upset, he was there to cheer her up with a silly line or a hug. Unfortunately, there was always that other performer, Werner. Whenever he was around, Amanda would always go to him. Kurt figured that she still thought of him as only a brother. If only. . .  
  
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OKAY! I wrote a second chapter so you people can be happy. Be happy! XD I'm gunna write more, too, since people like it. XD ^_^ 


	3. Chapter Two

Chapter Two  
  
"God has abandoned you, voman! God has abandoned you all!"  
  
Dressed in head to toe in a sleek black and red outfit, complete with horns and a demon's pick, Nightcrawler was playing his usual part in the beloved Munich circus. The Devil. The only way that he could have a part without scaring the audience too much. They assumed his indigo-blue skin and long winding tail was part of the costume. He enjoyed it, though, because he got to use his awesome agility and acrobatic skills to his maximum.  
  
"No! It cannot be true!" Cried a young teenager with shoulder length red hair, dressed in her own costume. She was pretending to be a monk. She wore all white robes, hood pulled over her head, and a wooden cross necklace around her neck. She was Amanda, Kurt's 'sister'.  
  
"But it is true, voman!" With that, the Nightcrawler swept her off her feet and took off into the rafters, much to the awe of the audience. He reached the trapeze high in the air, swinging on it casually, tail helping in keeping his balance.  
  
"Oh God. You take my breath away every time you do that." Amanda gasped. There was no use in having the crowds hear what wasn't written in the practiced script.  
  
"I live to take your breazh avay, Amanda." Was the quiet reply. He raised his three-fingered hand up, wielding the pick. "God shall not have you, oh beauteous one! Not zhis night - nor any ozher!" The audience 'Oohed' and 'Aahed'. "Tonight, you belong to zhe Devil!" He laughed, and it echoed throughout the large, rounded tent.  
  
Amanda shook her head and continued to go along with the script. She reached out a small hand towards the men that were waiting for her swing out. They were all dressed in angel's costumes, complete with large, white wings. "Help me, oh Lord! Send me an angel!"  
  
But just like that, she had moved wrong. Her bare feet were slipping off the rung. She screamed as she fell. The audience gasped, they thought it was part of the script. It was holding them to their chairs, anyway. Kurt cried out, "Amanda!"  
  
Werner, the lead angel, quickly swung out in an attempt to catch her. "I can't reach her!" He yelled, hands barely grazing fingers as she continued her plunge. There were no nets set up in this act.  
  
Kurt watched, mouth agape, as Werner fumbled the catch. "He missed her!" In the blink of an eye and a 'Bamf!' to follow, he was gone, only a puff of blue smoke left in his wake.  
  
Cries from the surprised crowd arose. "That demon just vanished!" Even more were from the rest of the cast in the act. "Quick, catch her!" They scrambled around aimlessly trying to figure out what to do. By now the crowd knew this was a mess-up.  
  
'Bamf!' again, and Nightcrawler had re-appeared, with Amanda tight in his grip. His arms and tail wrapped around her. "I've got you, Amanda."  
  
There were more screams, cries and calls. "It re-appeared!" Fingers and eyes shifted towards the creature.  
  
Unfortunately, Kurt had no time to teleport again; they were too close to the ground by now. His back hit hard, but Amanda had landed on him as if he was her own personal pillow.  
  
"I-I don't think that was part of the show. . ." Audience members stood to get a better look; some were rushing their children out of the tent. "Somebody call an ambulance!" Cried one being. Cast members stood around the fallen duo, shaken and scared.  
  
It turned out that Kurt had indeed broken a few ribs, but Amanda was fine. When his 'mother', Margali, had asked him what the hell he was thinking, he answered simply.  
  
"Zhe Devil made me do it."  
  
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Those were the good days, when he could work at the circus without a care in the world. But now, in this prison-like place, he didn't know what to expect. Again, Kurt Wagner was on his knees before his cot, head bowed in prayer. His eyes were closed, blue-black hair falling into and around his face, and when the doors were opened and two soldiers walked in, he didn't even flinch.  
  
"And vhile you're at it, please bless zhese soldiers, for zhey know not vhat zhey do."  
  
Jared and another soldier, Norris, had what seemed to be another mutant under their arms, but it was void of all hair and clothing. Skin was marked and cut, but healing. Norris spoke blandly. "Put this other mutant on the cot." Turning, he saw Kurt on his knees. Arching a brow, he stepped towards him. "What the hell are you doing, mutie?" He blinked those deep brown eyes of his. "Are you praying?!" Jared turned to watch the commotion after setting the plain mutant on the other cot. "No, you don't! You don't pray! God doesn't listen to prayers from animals!!"  
  
Kurt ignored him, pitching an attitude again. "And please bless Tiny Tim here, most of all. . ."  
  
Jared couldn't help but laugh slightly. Seemed his views had changed since he knew what they were bringing Nightcrawler here for, so he wasn't so beat-'em-'till-they're-down anymore. Norris, on the other hand, pulled out his billy club. "That's it, demon, that was a mistake! You're a mistake! One of God's mistakes!" He raised the club above his head.  
  
Jared gawked momentarily. "Norris, no. . ."  
  
"You Don't Pray!!" With a harsh swing of his weapon, he had hit Kurt across the face. Hard. Kurt hit the ground instantly, lip busted open and bleeding, the warm liquid was running down the side of his face. "I'd better not catch you on your knees again, you hear me?! Not praying to my God!"  
  
Jared stood and began shoving Norris out the door. "Get out of here, Norris! What the hell is wrong with you?"  
  
As the door was closing behind them, Norris could still be heard. "Not my God!!"  
  
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Just as he was praying for other people's safety, they were doing the very same for the blue fuzzy elf. The exact thought kept repeating itself through all of their minds - There are just so many people out in the world that hate mutants . . . and Kurt is as mutant as they come.  
  
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The other mutant that Jared and Norris had brought in had grabbed Kurt's attention. He had risen from the floor and was now seated at the edge of her bed, looking down upon her pale figure. He held her hand in his own, and he spoke reassuring words to her. His lip was bleeding, as was his nose. He had that metallic taste in his mouth as well. Not fun.  
  
"Hang in zhere. . . you've survived zhe vorst of it." A low moan escaped the other figures lips. "You'll be alright. I'm right here." He repeatedly told her, as if his words could heal her; somehow put a stop to her pain. He shook his head. "Lord . . . you need to be in a hospital, not rotting in a cell like zhis." She again cried out, and when Kurt focused on her hand, long claws began extending themselves from her fingertips. He watched in horror, golden eyes wide. "God in heaven. . ." Before he could say anymore, that same billy club was pressed against his throat. They pulled him away from the bedside.  
  
"Watch out for those claws in her fingers. Those things are nasty sharp." One of the soldiers pointed out. Kurt figured that his favorite, Norris, was behind him even before he spoke.  
  
"I thought they were going to remove those damn things."  
  
The other shook his head, eyes glued to the mutant. "No, I think they put them in."  
  
Norris tossed Kurt to the floor. "You're kidding me." With a smirk, he added, "Done any praying lately, Creepy Kurt?"  
  
Golden orbs glanced upwards. He brought a hand up to his face to wipe away some of the blood off his lips. A small grin crossed them after that. "Yeah, vell. . . once. I couldn't help myself. But it obviously didn't get zhrough. . . because you're still ugly." His gaze then shifted towards the club being raised yet again. He shook his head and prepared for the beating. "I have got to learn to keep my mouzh shut."  
  
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I found out what Kurt is saying! XD It's "I am a messenger of the Devil! I am the bringer of darkness! I am a demon!" Wahahahah. Anyone know what Unglaublich means? O_O Even my German speakin' pals don't know. *Shruggage* R&R! 


	4. Chapter Three

Chapter Three  
  
Day number three in this rotten mutant holding cell. Kurt's golden hues opened slowly only to take in what little light was provided. He mumbled something under his breath as he brought a hand up to his face to wipe the sleep away. The female mutant seemed as though she hadn't move since they brought her in, except that now she was fully healed and looked just fine. Different day, same stuff.  
  
Moving to a seated position on his discomfortable bed, Kurt sighed. 'Wonder what kind of beatings I'll receive today,' he wondered. How he longed to look outside, see nature flying free, doing what it does best. He missed the wide blue sky painted with a few clouds here and there; the fresh green grass nestled beneath his three-toed feet. Lying down in the grass and staring at the wildlife seemed as though it would never happen. He then began to wonder. Why were they keeping him here? What use was he to them? Were they just going to let him suffer and eventually die on his own, or did they have ideas in their sick little minds that they wished for him to fulfill?  
  
In the midst of his thoughts, he was interrupted by the sound of the heavy door being opened once more. Kurt didn't even bother to look; he knew just who it was by the sounds of his large boots tapping on the floor. It became a routine. When there was no loud, rude comments being said however, Kurt did indeed turn to look at the door. Before he saw anything, though, a brown sack was thrown over his head. No words were voiced as two hands each grasped his arms and hauled him out of the room. Nightcrawler's tail lashed about, until it was grabbed as well.  
  
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"He refuses to walk, Mister Stryker."  
  
By the feel of the rocks underneath his feet Kurt guessed that they had pulled his butt outside. He recognized the voice that spoke to his left as Jared. Must mean that Norris was on his right. And by the sounds of it, they brought him to see Stryker again. Fun.  
  
"Had to carry the little turd he whole way." He complained.  
  
"Just drop him anywhere, Norris." That voice was indeed, Stryker's. Kurt could recognize his deep voice anywhere. When he hit the ground harshly, the breath was knocked from his lungs resulting in a muffled 'Oof!'  
  
William Stryker arched a thick brow. "Take that bag off his head."  
  
The two soldiers glanced at each other momentarily, before Jared stammered. "Well... we should mention..."  
  
Norris interrupted him, a cocky grin upon his lips. "He tried to escape, sir. We had to get a little rough with him to settle him down."  
  
William was getting impatient. He pulled a hand from his pants pocket and re-adjusted his glasses upon his nose. "'A little rough with him'? What does that mean?"  
  
Neither of the men said a word. "Take the bag - off - his head." Stryker demanded, colored eyes narrowing.  
  
Still no movement. Finally Norris sighed and moved forward, pulling the bag swiftly off, revealing a bloodied Nightcrawler. With a grin Kurt added "Surprise."  
  
Stryker took a good look at the mutant before him, before turning with a disapproving glare towards the men. They looked like dogs that knew they had done something wrong. He sneered at the soldiers. "You're excused." They said nothing as they pivoted and walked off.  
  
William looked to the creature on the floor. "Are you capable of killing?"  
  
Kurt blinked, moving so that his vision would catch Stryker's. What kind of a greeting was that? "Am I - Am I what?" A hand moved up to instinctively brush away some blood that ran down his face. "What are you talking about?"  
  
Stryker sighed. "With your mutant abilities. The teleportation, the agility, and whatever else you can do." Glancing towards the soldiers as they walked off, he shook his head and resumed his cold stare towards the mutant. "Are you capable of killing, say, from a long distance away?"  
  
Kurt was confused. "I... I don't understand what you're asking me. Are you asking if I can, or-"  
  
"It's a simple question, Wagner." William was indeed, getting impatient. Reaching into his pocket with his right hand, he pulled out what looked to be a remote control of some sort. "I'm offering you the opportunity to kill you're oppressors over there." With a nod of his head, he was obviously referring to Norris and Jared. He then waved the remote in front of Nightcrawler's face. "This little bit of technology will turn off your inhibitor collar. I'll disable your collar and allow you to teleport over to those retreating soldiers - and kill them - for the beating they inflicted upon you." He smiled slightly. "All you have to do is ask."  
  
Kurt watched as the men were walking off. Oh, how sweet revenge sounded. He had put up with their nonsense for three days in a row now; he really was done with it. How simple it would be just to teleport, break their necks, and return. And he would be allowed to, no punishment for once. They began to shrink as they got further, while Kurt was watching, planning his move...  
  
"No. Zhat vould be against God."  
  
Stryker again arched his brows. "Against whose God? More people kill in the name of God than for any other reason on this godforsaken planet."  
  
Kurt managed a genuine smile. "Zhe only zhing forsaken by God will be zhose who kill in His name." Yellow hues shifted from the men that were now gone back towards Stryker. "My God is capable of nozhing but love." He moved so that he was seated comfortably on his knees, tail swaying behind him, hands brought together in his lap. "My God even loves people like you."  
  
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Back in the holding cell, Kurt was crouched over the female mutant lying in the cot. Her hand was in his, but she wasn't awake. He spoke softly, as though he feared for being heard. "We'll get you out of zhis, miss, I promise. I know someone misses you zhe vay Amanda and I miss each ozher. Even God has his limits in a place like zhis." Before he could continue his reassuring talk, the doors again, were slid open. This was the forth day of this torture, and Kurt was very sick of it.  
  
"Don't worry; I'm not going to hit him again..." Kurt turned towards the door, only to see Norris. Now what did he get to look forward to?  
  
"I just want to say goodbye to him, that's all." The man grinned as he stepped into the room.  
  
"Don't push it, Norris. I mean it." Jared could be seen in the hallway behind Norris.  
  
The meaner soldier nodded. "Oh, no no no. I got something better than the baton this time." He headed for Kurt's bed, leaning against it, shoving his hands casually into his vest pockets. ""I'm here to give you some good news, demon-boy. You're shipping out. Doubt you'll ever be back."  
  
Now it was Kurt's turn to arch what would be a brow. "But - but what about Amanda?"  
  
Norris laughed. "Now that's the good part. They told me I could tell you, and it made my whole day." He paused, building up on the suspense hanging in the room. "Amanda is dead, animal. We killed her a few days ago."  
  
Nightcrawler's eyes narrowed. "Vhat... vhat are you on about? You zhink I'm going to buy zhat?"  
  
The man nodded. "Yeah, I do. Because inside, you know it's true. She could never love a freak like you anyway. She was still with her handsome human boyfriend back at the traveling freak show."  
  
"You're lying to me. I'd never believe you, Norris. You're just taunting me again to -"  
  
Norris interrupted him. "We had people watchin' 'em, ready to do the killing. She was with that other acrobat every night. The normal one. They moved into your old wagon and did it like husband and wife." He sneered as Kurt just stared blankly. "They laughed all the time about what a freak you are. Too bad she's gone now." He turned, glad for what he had accomplished. He had obviously gotten to Kurt. "You feel like gettin' in a prayer or two now, go for it. I won't interfere." The doors were just about to shut behind him. "It's my little going away present to you."  
  
When the doors were together, leaving just Kurt, the woman, and the silence, he leaned forward, burying his face in his hands.  
  
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Bright lights beat down on the mutant's back as he was strapped to yet another table, face down. He was dragged away by soldiers again, but Norris wasn't part of the group. Now he lay in a room alone with Stryker, again. He hadn't said a word, hadn't even struggled when they came in to retrieve him.  
  
Stryker paced back and forth. "You wouldn't kill on your own, Wagner. And we couldn't risk long distance mind-control, unfortunately. But then we discovered that by removing this genetic material from the body of our mind-control Weapon Twelve - well, no need to explain." William pulled a shot of pale yellow liquid out of his coat pocket, pushing on the end slightly, causing a drop or two to escape. "In a moment it will all make sense."  
  
Stepping near the table, he brushed aside the mutant's dark blue- black hair, revealing his neck. The needle neared. "So quiet this evening, Wagner. No witty remarks? No genial ideas?" No answer.  
  
The only think Kurt did was let a tear slip down his cheek.  
  
Stryker sighed. "No. I suppose not. Discovering that the most perfect person in your life is dead now would understandably be a little upsetting, I imagine. But soon, all that will be forgotten..."  
  
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"Gentlemen, you picked a bad day to invite me into your game. - four aces."  
  
The setting was a smoky, hazy bar. Several other soldiers, including Norris, were gathered around a table, playing poker. Several cans of beer lay scattered about as Norris tossed his cards to the table top, leaned back in his chair, and proceeded bragging about his hand. He leaned forward to scoop up his pay. "It's hard to imagine this day getting any better..."  
  
'Bamf!' Dark blue-black smoke filled the room as did the usual sulfur scent, right behind Norris. He turned, sniffing the air. "What's that stink?"  
  
Just as he turned, he was met by a cold, narrowed golden gaze and a fanged sly grin. A false look was in the mutant's eyes as the large blade he held neared Norris. With a sickening 'Shluck' the knife was ripped across the man's throat, and just as quickly as he had appeared Nightcrawler was gone with a 'Bamf!'  
  
Norris hit the floor a bloody mess, all of this happening in a matter of seconds. The others had jumped from the table, chairs falling backwards, cards flying. Some had even pulled their pistols.  
  
"Damn. Stryker warned us that was commin' and it still scared the hell outta me." The others meakly nodded, looking over the overturned mess and the scarlet liquid running across the wooden floor.  
  
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'Bamf!' More smoke as Nightcrawler returned to Stryker's office, where the man stood with a satisfied grin upon his lips. It was nearly nighttime outside; the sun could be seen setting behind William in his large office window. "Perfect," He laughed. "Just perfect." He dragged out the last word, as though he was savoring the fact that his plan had worked after all. "And now, poor, hideous, God-loving Kurt Wagner - you will pay a little visit to the President of the United States." More deep laughter echoed through the room, filling it and the hallway. Time to put his plan into action.  
  
Kurt Wagner did nothing but stare with his empty yellow eyes.  
  
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YAY! I updated! *Applause* So. I probably don't have as many readers now. But as always, R&R! ^_____^ 


	5. Chapter Four

YAY! I have resumed, and due to the suggestion of many people, I have written the attempt on the assassination part. Thanks for all the reviews guys, it keeps me sane. xD! Enjoy!  
  
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Chapter Four  
  
"'We are not enemies, but friends,' " the tour guide said as she led the group through the East Wing entrance of the White House. " 'We must not be enemies,' " she continued, passing to let them gather inside the foyer beneath one of the presidential portraits that lined the wall. " 'Though passion may have strained, it must not break the bonds of our affection.' Abraham Lincoln."  
  
The Secret Service agent had made this speech hundreds of times, but she had a knack of making it sound as though she'd just thought it up. Her name was Alicia Vargas, short and looking as though she was barely out of college, with her wide-spaced eyes bouncing from person to person as she explained the White House. Her large coat hid the fact that she was hoarding a Sig-Sauer pistol in the holster at her side. Offering up another smile, Alicia indicated the portrait that hung behind her, the sixteenth in the line of chief executives that began with George Washington and culminated today in George McKenna.  
  
"President Lincoln said that in his first inaugural address. It's one of my favorites. I like to think, especially with all that's happening in the world, that those words are more important than ever."  
  
With a shrug and a gesture, she motioned over towards the security desks where they had x-rays and metal detectors. The people fidgeted, obviously nervous. "I just want to repeat what you were told at the Main Gate. Obviously, with the President in residence today, we want to be especially careful. One at a time, please approach the desk, present a photo ID, place your bags and purses on the conveyer belt, and pass through the metal detector. Your possessions and all cameras will be returned to you when you leave. I know that sounds harsh, but I hope you understand."  
  
As the people made their way down the line, one man in particular caught her eye. He was wearing a Red Sox baseball cap pulled low and dark sunglasses over his eyes. His hands were shoved deep into his trench coat pockets, and he slumped slightly. He wasn't doing anything wrong; in fact that was far from it. Most people when they visited the White house were excited, upbeat, impatient and impressed. This guy looked as though he didn't have a care in the world.  
  
Alicia shrugged, moving on. As she ushered a woman through the lines quickly, she recalled the beginning of the tour, where they had first entered the gates. Now that she had thought about it, there was no Red Sox hat in the group. She turned back to look for the man, but when she did Alicia caught the last bit of a faint sound, the 'bamf' of imploding air.  
  
Red Sox was gone.  
  
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From another area of the compound, Special Agent Donald Carp was leaning against one of the doorways. The East Wing entrance hallway was mostly a back hallway, and currently was not in use. But when Donald's peripheral vision registered some kind of movement in one of the doorways, he immediately moved to investigate. When he turned to peer down the corridor, all he saw was darkness. That was one of the problems with the back hallways, they were hell to light properly. He figured it was probably nothing, but being bored he felt the need to pry. To his surprise, however, there was something. He didn't notice until the figure had stepped from the shadows though, revealing a stooped form dressed in a tan trench complete with a Red Sox baseball hat. Boy was he going to have fun ratting on Alicia for letting a tourist stray from the group. He reached for the man's shoulder.  
  
"Excuse me, sir, are you lost? I'm afraid you can't leave the group- "  
  
The man turned to face him, and Carp gasped, finding himself face to face with a demon. His skin was such a dark blue that it looked as though the man was engulfed in his own shadow, the only points of color his gleaming yellow eyes. His ears were pointed, his teeth were fangs, and the hand that grasped at Carp's arm possessed three fingers rather than the normal five.  
  
Without a conscious thought, Carp went for his gun - but a pointed tail wrapped tight around his throat, cutting off his cries for help. The tail then spun him like a top until his head connected with a wall, a blinding pain ringing through his head. After that he never felt the blow to his neck, completing the act of knocking him unconscious. It was all over in a matter of seconds, but those seconds made all of the difference.  
  
From the East entrance came Alicia's shout, gun already in her hand as she came careening through the doors and down the hallway. Carp's partner was closer however, and he lunged for the intruder - only to be tripped by a sideways sweep of the mutant's legs, revealing two-toed feet that matched his hands. The intruder leapt across the hall, grabbing onto Alicia's gun with his tail and tossing it down the hallway, landing near the ceiling. To Alicia's astonishment, he stuck there. Above the chandeliers he was suddenly harder to see, his dark skin tone matching the shadows. With a snarl he was gone, bouncing from ceiling to wall to floor, scampering around to the west wing.  
  
Alicia used the mini-mic clipped to the inside of her sleeve. "Code Red," she cried. "Code Red. Perimeter breach at visitors' checkpoint! Agent Vargas in the Cross Hall, ten meters from the East Entrance. Intruder is hostile, two agents are down. Threat to Braveheart!"  
  
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In the back of the mansion, in the opposite wing, President George McKenna was working on the phones, applying a measure of charm with a simple hint of threat to a senator hoping to mess up the latest administrative initiative. He looked up with irritation as the doors to his room were busted open and Sid Walters, head of his protection deail stormed inside. He had a gun in his hand, and from the look on his face, he wasn't going to be interested in any comment the President had to make.  
  
"Say again," Walters snapped into his own mic, "how many are there?"  
  
"What the hell-" The President began, but all questions and any thoughts evaporated as half a dozen more men paraded into his office, forming a living shield around his desk. Most of them were in suits, pistols in hand, but at least two of them were in full combat gear - helmets, flak jackets, and the works with MP5 submachine guns in their hands. This obviously was no drill. These men believed that he was in some deadly danger, and were willing to risk their lives for him.  
  
McKenna heard a tiny voice demanding his attention, and only then did he realize that he still held the phone in his grip.  
  
With a calmness that the President didn't know he had, he lifted the receiver to his ear. "Trent, I'm sorry, I can't talk right now, something's come up. I'll call you back as soon as I can, alright?" Without waiting for an answer, he hung up. "Sid?" He asked in a meek voice.  
  
"You'll be fine, sir. You have our word."  
  
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The West Wing was a mad house, agents running around trying to clear everyone from the mansion as well as track down the intruder. There was no sense of order, that all had disappeared with the first gun shot. They weren't nice, and they weren't gentle either. Their goal was to get everyone out as fast as possible. The thing was, they were just as scared as the tourists. Surveillance cameras were proving useless, the intruder was to fast for the cameras, and by the time someone shouted a warning it was already too late.  
  
Toby Vanscoy found that out the hard way. He had been clearing the civilians from the area when a scream alerted him of the mutant's presence. He reacted the way he had been trained, pulling his Sig-Sauer P226, one of the fastest handguns in the world, and opened fire. In the quick flash that he had wasted all fifteen of his shots, he realized that he had not even come close to hitting the target.  
  
The intruder bounced off the walls, he leapt from floor to ceiling, he ran as easily upside down as he did on the floor, and then he hurled himself through the air in a somersault that ended with both feet planted firmly in Vanscoy's chest, sending him flying backwards through the air. It felt like he had just been smashed with a battering ram, loosing his gun as he busted through the double doors and crashed into the main office.  
  
The intruder followed, straddling Toby's body only to find that six more soldiers blocked his way. He glanced over his shoulder only to see half a dozen more taking their places behind him, Scarlet dots decorated his body as their laser targeting locked onto him, the agents all in good cover while he was wide open. Glancing upward he also saw that it was also a drop ceiling over head, if he tried to grab onto the tiles they would only drop him back down to the floor. They figured they had him now.  
  
"Hands behind your head, get down on your knees! Right now!" The mutant glanced down, to his surprise, to see Toby's extra pistol pointed right at him, shouting orders.  
  
"Right now!" The lead agent from ahead snarled. "No tricks, or we'll open fire."  
  
The intruder hissed, bearing his fangs. Vanscoy pulled the trigger, only to have his bullet hit the ceiling above.  
  
The intruder had vanished. 


End file.
